Brighter Than The Moon
by Northwestern-Requiem
Summary: Fireworks in the sky are nice, Optimus reflects, but there are fireworks elsewhere that are much nicer.  Slash. Mult.Pairings. Oneshot.


Fireworks in winter were beautiful, exploding over a landscape that only reflected and absorbed the rainbows that burst in the sky. The dark sky giving nothing but aide to the brightness of the burning colors. It was enough to make anyone gape in awe.

But it wasn't the bright flashes in the sky that held Optimus's attention.

War was hell; there was no getting around that fact. But there were spouts of good in between those frantic, deadly battles. Bits of happiness and pieces of the unexpected joys of life were woven into the blood and mayhem. Friendships were forged with partnership and comradeship. Love, also, brought into fruition by the solitary stationing on Earth.

A burst of purple brought the sight of conjoined black and white on the side of the volcano; well what could be seen from under a thermal wrap to keep out the cold. Prowl and Jazz caught in a rare, but true, bought of passion. A simple kiss conveying the loyalty and devotion they had for one another. They broke away and saboteur said something that made tactician laugh, an even rarer sight. White helm leaning forward to lie next to a black one, showing equality and acceptance, something always there with the two of them; never ceasing or breaking or dying. Eternal and set in stone. Black and white, plain and simple, but deep and unfathomable. Sometimes it was questionable; it was doubted, but never dismissed or lost. Always there, just for the two of them. A private, secret, nearly forbidden passion that hid itself, only emerging for the quiet moments when all eyes left them and it could exist for just them, in a world all their own, where blood wasn't shed and life could go on as normal. Those moments added up, to a point where there was no return or denial. It existed brightly, angrily. Like the fireworks above.

Shots of streaking red revealed, well, more red. Ratchet sat on his legs, looking upward at the fireworks as they glowed brightly, then s they faded, looked downward at the red mech lying with his helm on Ratchet's legs. Ironhide, relaxed and at ease, allowed the medic to stroke his helm a few times before one large grey hand carefully enclosed a red one and held it. They gazed at each other for a moment, a timeless gesture, giving the other the chance to look into the windows of their souls. A love like theirs was infrequent, lasting through every battle and tribulation they faced and giving them the fire to move forward; together. It was stable, albeit a little malleable. It lasted and endured, just like the two mechs; older than most of the small army, yet somehow stronger and more knowledgeable. It survived with them and gave them both a strange power that gave them the strength to live through every horror they'd seen, every loss they had to go through, and every change and upgrade they were forced into. It evolved and bolstered, bringing them both to moments like these.

A swirl and blast of bright gold raining towards the earth gave the other red plating of the mountain a precious gleam. Fire of any sorts caused the large mech to pay rapt attention; fire in the sky causing him to sit and stare like a sparkling, only this time with a captive. A smaller, paler mechanism sitting trapped in powerful arms and pressed back unhappily against a broad chest. No sparks emitted from his sensory horns, Red Alert appeared calm and collected, humoring his captor with his attention and presence. The small mech sat there, no struggles, no arguments; just peace. That in itself spoke volumes of the mech's love for his larger partner, and the fact that Inferno's arms didn't just hold, but embraced, returned the sentiments. A black helm dipped just slightly to press a chaste kiss to the back of the red one, and the small one smiled, leaning back into his wild savior's protection.

Blue lancing its way into the sky drew his attention to a larger party, one that was far more animated than the others, but nonetheless meaningful. One very smiley mech sat between two bickering ones. They weren't shouting or yelling, but snipping at one another like a bonded couple. But while they weren't bonded, they were most certainly connected in an intimate way. The twins, as they were, constantly were at ends with one another, both physically and mentally. But yet both had the capacity to go to great ends for one another; willing to fight entire armies to protect the other. Perhaps it was simply the bond they shared that forced them to do such things. No one knew, no one even tried to understand. Save for Bluestreak. The gunner sat between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, content in watching the fireworks while his best friends quarreled around him. The twins were attracted to the littler mech like he was a magnet, craving his aura of trust, truth, and loyalty. In return, the grey mech turned to the two for harmony and confidence. A volatile balance, but an effective one.

An orange glow in the shape of a star exploded with power against the quiet lights of the real stars in the inky black of the night. Another duo actually lay there together in the white of the snow, one of them nearly blending into his surroundings. But then, of course, blending in and disappearing was his specialty. Mirage lay draped across Hound's chest, helm angled up to view the lights, arms so gently wrapped around his best friend, and most recently, lover. The scout appeared to be rambling about something, glancing between the spy in his arms and the explosions above them. They had a sense of perfection together that was strange to him. By all means, they shouldn't be perfect for each other, if their pasts meant anything. But instead of ignoring each other like the plague, they had sought out each other's company from the beginning. Their respective pros and cons weighing down each other until balance was achieved. The warmth that shined in the green mech's optics when he looked at his chosen was always there, at any time of day, like a personal sunrise. They never seemed to tire of each other, dragging themselves this way and that like younglings at a playground. Forever young and in love it would seem.

The finale interrupted his musings. Flashes coming more frequently until it sounded like gunfire. One last green detonation signaled the end, and cheers erupted around him, some half-drunk. But for tonight, that was alright. Tonight, there was no war. Just them as they were.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

After his audio receptors being pelted with boom after boom, Elita-1's voice sounded like music. Optimus looked to her, knowing that she wasn't referring to fireworks, he smirked. With a quick tug, his mask was gone and he swooped down to kiss the lips he had only dreamt about for so long; renewing that zeal that had never left, the vigor that had been suppressed. So lucky was he to have her by his side, at least for now. But for now, Primus was more than generous to them both and to all his men.

Tonight was theirs, as it would be until they could remember it no longer. Until they passed from this world in a burst of noise and color. Until their sparks faded like fireworks.


End file.
